Killer with a conscience
by boringperson89
Summary: Follow the (very) bumpy journey from a self-proclaimed failure attempting to roll with a gang, to the President of The United States, and the idiocy that runs with it. {SR1 through to four. Pairings happen, and the rating will change somewhere along the line}
1. Saving the day (but less badass)

It's been so long since I've put anything on this site oh my word.

Okay, so these will be a series of chapters focusing on the missions, and other stuff, but some details are a little different. This one is set when the player saves Johnny from Tony's condo.

Also, I've used the word 'condo' too many times to count. woops.

**Disclaimer: ****Saints row belongs to Volition and Deep silver. Not me. At _all._**

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Rebecca's instructions were concise, and to the point as always;

"_Get Johnny._"

Ever since she bailed from Tony's condo, the guilt of leaving him behind carried over her for the remainder of the day, even as she was making a hazardous attempt to catch up with Tanya's chauffeur.

She pulled up next to the limo in a beaten Bootlegger, eyeing The chauffeur over the top of pink neon rimmed sunglasses.

"Do me a _massive _favour. Get out on the count of three."

She raised her .45 through the open window, so it pointed against his temple. Her intentions weren't to shoot him, not if he left the car, anyway.

"One."

His resolve slowly started cracking as she tried to look as nonchalant as she could, hand resting lazily on his open window. This wasn't a time to start fretting about killing innocents.

"Two—"

As if her prayers were answered, the chauffeur jumped last minute, the limo door ramming into the side of her barely usable car. She would have made a sassy remark if she had the time, but she could already hear the nasal tones of Tanya. Time to go.

She was already in the driver's seat by the time Tanya reached the car, and she made sure to keep her head bowed as she tried not to crash into any surrounding cars on the way to Tony's condo. Rebecca watched her leave for a moment, vanishing into the white décor of an expensive apartment, before she rushed in after her, swinging her baseball bat to meet with Tanya's head.

With a satisfied smirk, she neatly side stepped the unconscious woman, as she paused by the door to the condo itself.

"Now isn't the time to be a pussy." She told herself, charging into the room before she could change her mind.

"Johnny?" She called out into the empty room.

"Yo, I'm fine, take that fucker out!"

The flood of relief at hearing his voice was short lived, as Tony emerged from the bedroom, shotgun in hand. The shell barely grazed her thigh as he fired, leaving her time to shoot him square in the chest, the impact making him fall to the ground.

She didn't waste any time in killing him, quickly leaping over so that she straddled his chest, pistol raised to put a bullet neatly in his skull.

The blood that splattered her face didn't faze her, as she scrubbed at her face with her jacket, still straddling Tony's corpse. She couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh that it was over, a grunt from Johnny making her focus back on the intention of the visit. As she walked to where he lay, her knife almost cut into his wrist due to her shaking hands, but thankfully for her, and him, for that matter, her knife slid through the ropes in a clean cut, freeing his limbs from the chair.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked, helping him up from his position on the floor.

He smirked at her question.

"Never better."

The sarcastic intent went straight over her head as she raised her brows at his response.

"A'ight. I'm going back to the church. Want me to drop you off there or-?"

He cut in before she could finish her sentence, helping him to his feet as he limped down the stairs of the condo, his arm resting on her shoulder.

"—Yeah. We're stoppin' at Freckle Bitches on the way though. You owe me for savin' your ass. Again."

He punctuated the last word with a smirk, and though she could tell he was just trying to piss her off, it made her roll her eyes, regardless. She slowly helped him into the car before sliding into the drivers seat, putting the key into the ignition as the car roared to life.

"Aisha's pretty damn worried about you." Rebecca said, finally looking at him over he glasses.

"Yeah? Well, she shouldn't be. I'm indestructible."

That earned him a snort from her as her eyes kept on him, raising her eyebrows incredulously.

"What?—"

He didn't finish his sentence as he knocked her arm to get her attention back to the road.

"—Becca, keep your eyes on the fuckin' road!"

The sudden realization that she was in fact, _driving, _made her eyes snap back to the windshield as she jerked the wheel to keep from running over an old age pensioner.

"Well, _shit._" She spoke, deflated.

The perkiness in her tone had gone, and her smirk faded, as the car stalled in the middle of the sidewalk, making her hands slam down on the wheel in frustration.

"Fuck me. You ain't ever drivin' with me again. I mean, I knew you were a shit driver but—"

His insult was cut into by the turn of her head, once again, not paying attention to the road as she started the car back up, swerving through the streets of Stilwater.

"—Hey!" She said, her eyebrows raised, feigned hurt on her face.

"Just stating truth. Don't get your panties in a twist." He said, smirking at her as he re-adjusted his glasses, his usual cool demeanour starting to set in again.

She turned the car into the drive-through, spending more money than what was humanly possible on three family meals for Johnny. She could understand why. He'd been locked up in there for three days.

However, all she could hear as she drove out of the restaurant was the contented eating of her counterpart. Loud eaters had always got on her nerves, and she soon found her fingers digging into the steering wheel.

"Can you eat any louder?" She asked.

"Shut the fuck up."

She did so, defiantly ignoring him until they pulled up at the church, pulling her key out of the ignition. She slid out of the car, examining the mess he'd made of her seat before helping him out, guiding him up the stairs.

She wasn't intending on staying, so as she left him at his office, he turned to her, with one last remark before she left;

"Yo, what's with the glasses anyway? You an 80's reject or somethin'?"

She had thought her glasses matched well with her teal hair, they were eye-catching, to say the least. But she was already walking by now, her back turned to him, but her reply was loud enough for him to hear;

"I hate you."

All she could hear as she walked was his laughter, she was grinning herself as she hopped into her car, examined the mess with a sigh, and drove out into the street, smashing into a lamppost as she drove into the night.

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Okay, so I hope you liked it!


	2. First kill

So I thought I'd explore Troy a little bit more. He's an amazing character.

This one is a little shorter, though. So sorry for that!

Going back to after the Canonisation scene c:

**As usual, nothing belongs to me, at all.**

Enjoy c:

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There was no one left in the church, not after the massive fuck up that she'd just caused.

Blood was running out of her nose in a consistent stream after that, and after the first attempt at wiping it with the sleeve of her hoodie, she had given up. She instead, sat on one of the walls surrounding the church, taking a deep drag of the cigarette in her hand.

"What's your name anyway?"

The voice made her jump, and she paused, looking over her shoulder to see Troy standing there.

"How long've you been standing there?" She asked, eyebrows raised, before realizing her current appearance. Going red with embarrassment, she scrubbed her nose with her sleeve, re-adjusting her ponytail.

"Long enough. You gonna answer then?" He asked, coming to a stop behind her.

"Rebecca."

Another drag.

"Okay 'Becca. You wanna get a piece?"

She nodded, getting up from her position, with a sudden realization. Before he could get up to lead the way, she raised a hand, signalling to stop. It gained her a raise of the eyebrow.

"I just need to—Sort out this." She waved a hand over her face. He nodded, as he took a seat at the wall, where she sat previously.

"Take your time."

That clearly meant he was staying put. Looks like they were going to have some un-planned bonding time.

She nodded awkwardly, sliding into the church before pulling out her phone, desperately trying to make some attempt to clean her bust nose, retying her ponytail. She couldn't actually _believe _that one of those fuckers tried to pull her hair out.

Still, said 'fuckers' were part of her family now.

It only took her a moment to become surprised at her appearance. Her nose had swollen, she could have sworn she was beginning to see the formation of a bruise around her brown eyes. Fantastic.

She looked decent enough.

With a deep breath, she looked at herself one last time with a sigh, pushing the door open to check if he was still there.

Of course he was. His back to her, cigarette in mouth, as always. One of these days, he was going to drop dead on the spot.

"Hey." She spoke, quietly. He still heard.

That caught his attention. He didn't turn around, just got up from his position, already beginning to walk.

"You coming or what?" He yelled over his shoulder.

She had to run to catch up, slowing down as she got nearer, trying to make herself look like she put in minimal effort. Truth was, she was striving for his respect, bordering on kiss-ass.

She didn't know why she thought it mattered so much. Didn't know why she strived to show the best of herself, be it spilling blood at the canonisation, or shooting down anyone wearing the wrong flag. Troy said himself that she'd earned her colours, and yet she was hanging on his every word.

Luckily for her, she didn't have to attempt to keep in pace with his long strides for much longer. They reached friendly fire, and he strode forward, as always, stopping only to hold the door open.

"You didn't strike me as a gentleman Troy." The tone of her voice was playful, and she gave him a quick nod, smirking all the while.

"I'm a total gentleman, kid." He replied, a small corner of his mouth upturned.

"Sure." It came out as a snort as she walked up to the counter, eyes scanning over the various guns dotted over the shop.

A habit that she hadn't exactly got rid of was her ability to switch off from reality, practically staring at a space in the wall. She had done it ever since she was younger, which was highly convenient during boring lessons at school, and college alike.

She kept her gaze on the .45 until she was brought back by an elbow hitting her hip.

"The fuc—" She was cut off by him intercepting her.

"Got that piece you were monging at. C'mon." He walked out before she could stop him. He'd have to stop doing that.

"So—What now?" She asked.

The door was opened by herself this time, and he had to catch it to stop it from hitting him. Ladylike, she was not.

"We clear out the row."

His tone was grim, and his face set. She blinked, taken aback, and then his face was back to neutral, calm.

She'd have to ask him about that later.

"Okay so, you see them Rollerz?" He asked.

He was stood close to her now, lips touching her ear as he spoke, his chest pressing into her back as he raised a finger to point at a group of blue clad bangers. She nodded, too dumbstruck to say a word.

"I want you to drop 'em. I'll be behind you and everything." He continued, still staying close.

He must have realized the close proximity too, because in an instant, he withdrew from her. Leaving her stood with a red tint on her cheeks.

She started walking towards them, tucking her gun in her back pocket. Call her naïve, but she didn't want to start shooting just yet. To her dismay, Troy withdrew as they got closer, so that she could lead the way. As she did, she hesitated, refusing to look back at him for some sort of encouragement.

Sliding her gun out of her pocket, she approached quietly, coming to a stop at their feet.

"Sup baby?" One of them asked, she couldn't identify which.

She knew that if she had to hear any more pet names she would shoot a hole through his skull, but she hesitated all the same, bringing the gun from her pocket, to raise it to sit between his eyes, firing before the other two in the group could react.

One lunged for her, and she really didn't know why she was taken by surprise.

But she had to prove herself. Show Troy she wasn't a coward.

She was a mess of legs, kicking with her feet so that his hold on her loosened, and she was able to fire through his chest, finishing him off with a shot to the head.

That left one.

He looked barely in his teens, a little like her. She hesitated, blinking quickly, before mirroring her earlier stance, barrel between the eyes, lips pressed into a hard line.

"The saints are taking over, you hear me? You can bail. Leave town, before you get killed." Her words were soft, but she doubted it was any consolation, with the gun pressed against his forehead.

She watched as his eyes slowly travelled up to the barrel pressed between his eyes, and she realized that her hand was shaking. He took his time with a response, and she tried to focus her concentration on measured breaths, a picture of calm.

This wasn't the first time that she'd seen eyes like that. He reminded her of her brother, in a strange way.

"I can't." There wasn't a tremor in his voice, but his eyes were wide.

She didn't expect anything different, but it still made her swallow the bile rising up in her throat. She understood. She really did. With a nod, her finger reluctantly squeezed the trigger. She didn't watch the body fall. Instead, turning to Troy, walking back with her head hung a little lower than before.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Yep." Her reply was sharp and blunt.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Nope."

"Heading back to the church?"

"Yep."

They walked back to the church in silence, him walking a little further ahead than her, she hung back, small steps, as always.

They reached the church still in silence, with him sitting in her earlier position, her despite her qualms, joining him.

"You did good, kid." He told her, still gentle.

He was all good natured, voice gentle, a pat on her leg. But as much as she knew it was kindness, she couldn't help but feel patronized. The nickname in itself told her what he thought of her.

"I did fucking awful." She didn't leave him time to speak as he tried to intercept her.

"No y-"

"—I told that kid to get out. To leave. What kind of banger tries to reason with every person they _kill_-?"

"A good person." That was his only reply.

"A good person doesn't kill people." She said, shaking the thoughts away from her head as she got up from the wall.

"Becc-"

"Thanks for getting the gun and everything." She intercepted him with a quick nod, getting to her feet. She stood there for a second, studying him with an expression of confusion, before shaking her head, turning to quickly walk back into the church.

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Okay, so hopefully this wasn't a monumental fuck up.

Thankyou for reading, if you want to review, please do! ( :)))) ) and have a great day.


	3. 3131

Apologies to the delay, had some crazy stuff going around. I probably wont publish until Thursday at the earliest, birthday preparations and all that.

Massive thanks to chyrstis for reviewing and re-assuring me that this isn't a fuck-up. I really appreciate it c:

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything guys**

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"—I just hope he hasn't gone soft." Johnny gestured to the door, sighing, as he tapped his fingers on the desk.

Rebecca was sat on the edge of Johnny's desk when King came in. He was the sort of man who immediately drew in your attention. He carried an air of grace that contrasted his reputation, he held himself straight, always clad in a suit. Rebecca held nothing short of admiration from him, though she often went quiet in his presence.

"Don't ever worry about me baby boy. Cause I'm gonna handle mine." King replied, obviously having caught onto the end of Johnny's conversation.

Her eyes travelled to Johnny for a reaction, as their words travelled back and forth, so did her eyes, following them as they exchanged a verbal Ping-Pong match.

"—I just don't want you bitching out when you see your crew." Johnny challenged, eyebrows raised.

"'Ain't my crew son. That's why I'm here, remember? So how about you put your dick away, pick up your gun, an' try to keep your knee away from the bullets." His response was sharp, and she found herself wincing dramatically, for Johnny's benefit.

She could tell his pride was wounded, just for a moment, before his swagger started up again, and he followed, gesturing for her to do so, with a hand. She eagerly complied, leaning up to his ear to whisper, smirk on her face;

"Dude, you just got your ass _whooped._"

His glare was calculated, but the smirk that was on her face didn't falter.

"Fuck you." He responded, his face set, slinging his rifle over her shoulder in such a way that it almost hit her in the face.

She pulled a very un-lady like face behind his back, to which he must have seen from the corner of his eye, as he raised his middle finger to her, still not turning to face her as he got in the car.

She got into the driver's seat, hands tapping anxiously on the wheel, as Johnny got in the passenger seat, examining her for a moment, before shaking his head.

"I ain't trustin' you with that. Get out." He told her, tone levelled.

She almost breathed a sigh of relief, hopping out of the car to take her seat in the passenger's side. He set off as she was barely inside the door. Without consulting him, she wound down the window, popping her head out to look around the street. As she listened to their exchange, she couldn't help but smirk. Stefan had to be the most annoying asshole she ever had the displeasure to meet.

As they pulled up beside an impressions, Gat signalled for her to wait, as he leapt out of the car. She could see the glee emitting from him as he strode into the shop, bat in hand. To say he had a strange contraption attached to his leg, she had to hand it to him, he kept up his sway as he walked, still acting hard ass.

She didn't hear the exchange from the shop, but whatever he said must have worked, because a flash of pink later, he was back in the car, Stefan dangling from outside the window. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy, but she took the moment to remind herself of how much of a dick he was. Then, all feelings of sympathy promptly disappeared, strangely enough.

His persistent whining was really starting to grate on her nerves. She found herself rolling her eyes as she reclined further into her seat, pinching her nose with her thumb and finger, attempting to block out the high pitched whine, but to no avail.

Though, she had to agree with him on Johnny's god awful badger tips.

Eventually, his use of third person started to piss her off.

"I swear to _fucking _god Stefan, you refer to yourself in third person one more time—" She started, but the squeak of Stefan intercepted her.

"The code is 3131! _3131! _Please, not my _face!_"

But despite his pleas, King dropped him mid-sentence, on his face, actually. She couldn't help but wince.

"You know, I brought you along so you could keep the cops off our asses. Doing a real good job Becca."

Johnny's words brought her back to her focus, retrieving her pistol to lean out of the window. Her first shot missed, just grazing the wind shield. She didn't wait for a snort off Johnny, or a roll of the eyes from King. She focused, narrowing her eyes as she aimed to the best of her ability, shooting a head shot through the window, the car promptly coming to a halt, just as Johnny swerved to avoid a lamppost.

"Good driving." She nodded, to Johnny, sarcasm present. She was a hypocrite, through and through.

"You can't say shit on drivin'. So shut the fuck up." He replied, eyes narrowed, still focusing on the road as he pulled up alongside Tanya's penthouse.

"Okay—You ready?" Johnny asked, mainly to King, but his eyes focused on her for the last part of his sentence.

She nodded, as they all jumped out of the car in unison, like some horrendously cliché action film, barging through the doors, gun to hand. Her previous hesitation had gone, not putting a second thought into putting bullets through yellow clad bangers.

She'd think, later, about how she was losing herself. Killing with such ease, and almost, with a certain degree of joy. So different to herself, just a week ago. The woman who hesitated killing bangers, who shook with fear afterwards.

It was clear that the man in charge was King. Johnny followed suit, a little behind, her trailing behind them both. He paused in the elevator, looking expectantly for the two to follow. They did so, Johnny punching in the code with excitement.

"I'm gonna skull fuck that _bitch._" His tone was dripping with venom as he spoke to King. She couldn't see him, they had their backs to her, but she could actually _feel _King rolling his eyes.

"That's a guaranteed road trip to Hepatitis." She spoke from behind them, after a long pause, mustering up the courage to return with a remark.

It must have taken him off guard, frowning to turn to her, mouth agape.

"Wha-?"

With a smirk, she side stepped him, following King out of the elevator. After walking a few yards, she turned around; him still rooted to the spot, beckoning him over.

"Aw, c'mon Johnny. You're gonna miss the good part." Her tone was sweet as she finally heard a sigh, and his footsteps. After a few seconds, he was stood directly behind her, nudging into her with his shoulder.

As she ran through, she couldn't help wondering how _big _the place was. If being a cock-sucking whore got you this much money, she was ready to consider it. One more shot in the chest, and there was yellow slain around the room.

Ben King led the way, stopping by the door. This must have been it. He didn't bother to consult either of them, slamming open the door to find Tanya herself, relaxed, legs resting on the desk.

"Some guys never get enough of me."

Her nasal tones were enough to send her gun raised, raising an eyebrow.

"Wow—I mean—I never realized before, but she's so fucking _ugly._" She whispered to Johnny. He ignored her.

"It's over girl—You ain't gonna be able to fuck your way out of this one." Ben King's words were so powerful, that she believed him.

"That's cute sweetie. That's just precious." Tanya replied, standing up to reveal her rifle.

Like she actually thought she had a chance. It was clear, three against one.

As if a silent agreement passed through them all, all three raised their guns at once, shooting at her, only ceasing as she fell through the window.

"She's _still alive? _Jesus fucking Christ." Rebecca said, leaning over the window to see her dangling, hand clutching at the window ledge. She saw King stand in front of her, and immediately retreated. This was his revenge, not hers.

She stepped to the side, Johnny next to her as they managed to catch her falling to her death, landing in a heap on King's car. The shrill alarm and shattering of glass piercing whatever silence there was.

None of them said a word as they retreated back to the lift, but she felt incredibly smug, a smile that was wiped off her face as they walked back through the lobby, seeing the bodies of those she'd killed strewn around polished white columns. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, as she walked past them, trying to convince herself that she was simply clearing out the row.

_Just clearing out the row. _

She repeated it in her head until she finally believed it, hopping over a body to get through the doors.

"I know what you told Julius an' all, but why don't you stick around and roll with us? Sure he wouldn't mind havin' you around and everything." Johnny said, walking down the steps, wincing every so often, but covering it with his usual nonchalant stare.

A gentle tap on her arm made her frown, turning to face Johnny with an incredulous look on her face. She'd usually have a rough shove, or if he was feeling particularly cruel, grabbing at her neck. She had made the mistake of telling him that she hated hands around her neck. He'd taken advantage of that at every opportunity, coming up behind her to squeeze it whenever he could.

"You think you can make it back to the row on your own? Aisha—You know, the pussy calls." He smirked at her horrified expression, hobbling down the stairs.

Her attention was pried away from him, still grimacing at the mental image he had put in her head, eventually turning to focus her attention on King, not quite meeting his eyes, scraping her foot over the other.

"You did good in there girl. Here—" He held out some keys, which she gladly took, encasing them in her palm. "Doubt I'll need these anymore."

Before she could thank him, however, he jogged down the steps, turning down the street, leaving her staring straight at the body of Tanya, her grip on the keys tight enough to cut, as she heard the familiar siren of a police car taking it as her cue to speed off down the street, feet hitting the pavement as she turned the corner, passing Johnny's car as she did.

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Well, that's that done. Woooooo. Thankyou for reading, have a totally amazing day because you're fab! x


	4. Worst driver in Stilwater

So onto 'Samsons surprise' with The westside Rollerz.

I have a weird feeling that this fanfic is going to just feature Johnny and Troy one after the other but I can't help it, they're so _precious. __  
_

**Disclaimer: Saints row isnt mine at all. Non, nein, noooo.**

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Lin couldn't have picked a worse person to drive for the race with the Rollerz. And even worse, she had to drive _Troy. _King of offensive comments about her skills as a motorist. She'd probably end up killing them both.

The roar of a familiar car caught her eye, quickly making her look away at the realization that it was Troy. She didn't know what she expected, if she was honest. She stood pressed up against a wall, trying to look to look as nonchalant as possible, though, from the look on Troy's face, she was failing miserably.

"This isn't fillin' me with confidence." He spoke, as he looked her over once, a little too long for her liking, before sliding into the passenger seat. She followed.

She hated to admit it, but she was shaking. The whole thing was bound to be a disaster, and she didn't want to deal with a pissed off Lin when she'd failed to do as she was told.

"Not to be pushy or anything—But this'd go better if you didn't mong out every five minutes." His voice shook her from deliberating her options, as she quickly started the ignition before she could back out, reversing into a wall.

"_Christ._" He said, rolling his eyes as he brought a cigarette to his lips.

"I _told _you this was a bad idea. You know I can't drive for shit. This race is gonna end up with me killing you, seriously." She told him, as she drove out onto the road, knocking over an old woman as she did.

"Great." He replied. He sounded like she felt.

The drive to the race was a long one. And every so often he'd make a comment about her driving skills, or question her on her past. The comment that stood out most of all however, made her frown.

"I don't like the idea of Lin goin' undercover. You roll with people long enough and pretty soon you start thinkin' like 'em." He addressed her, waiting for a reply. He must have known it wasn't going to be a positive one.

The car screeched to a halt, making him lurch against his seatbelt. He already looked agitated, about to accuse her, until she cut in before he could.

"Seriously? Lin _hates _the rollers. She wouldn't fuck us over." She said. However, she was convincing herself at the same time, as well as him.

He didn't say anything after that, and she took it as her cue to pull over to where the race begun, not sparing him a look as she wiped the sweat off her hands on her shorts. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time.

"You ready to do this?" He asked, though, she thought that he knew the answer.

"Nope."

He didn't expect anything less, reaching out a hand to rest her on the shoulder. The gesture was so unexpected that she flinched, raising her eyebrows as he retracted his hand. Though, her heart was slamming against her chest, she knew then, that it wasn't the race entirely that was causing it.

But she threw the thoughts away with the shake of her head, slowly getting into position.

The combination of his fingers tapping against the dashboard, the rev of engines around her, and the countdown from three made her dig her hands into the steering wheel, willing herself to focus until—

"Becca! Get _driving!_" He reminded her that the cars had in fact, set off, and she was staring blankly at the space in front of her.

"_Shit!_" She cursed, finally starting to accelerate.

The damage wasn't too bad. She could still see the cars in front, she was just at even more of a disadvantage. Who'd have thought.

After a record 10 seconds of not crashing into anything, she was in line with another driver, and with the help of Troy's insults, the nitrous was activated, and the car turned into a scrap heap in a number of seconds. She had to swerve last minute to avoid the brunt of the explosion, almost crashing into a lamppost.

One down, three to go.

"C'mon!" He urged. They weren't getting anywhere fast, and she was panicking, eyes wide as she pulled around a corner last minute, crashing into rollerz car head on.

"Hey—Tell you what—You ask nicely? I'll let you wash my car on weekends." He yelled out of the car window. To say that he was in the hands of a mad woman, he was half out of the car. Either he trusted her too much, or he was an idiot. She couldn't tell.

That hit a nerve. A flash of blue later, and the car was rendered to debris in the road.

It wasn't exactly _failing _so far, but they still had two cars to get.

He slid back into the car, hesitating for a moment, before nudging her, with his elbow. She still didn't take her eyes off the road.

"C'mon Becca, you're doing fine."

It wasn't what she expected, but precisely what she wanted to hear. She skimmed the sidewalk, before sliding around a corner, running over a man unwise enough to stand near the road when a race was occurring. It didn't deter her, as she was soon lurking behind a car, Troy getting ready to yell his insults from the window.

If she wasn't in this situation, it would have been funny. She would have made a sarcastic comment, but she was so scared about ruining this, that she hadn't made a comment since the race started.

"You never had a chance!" He flipped off the driver in the car, as she pushed nearer, prying her hand away from the wheel long enough to raise her middle finger, echoing Troy's insult. She instantly latched back onto the wheel, feeling a little more smug than before. That was, until she crashed into a wall.

It didn't stop the car from pulling the nitrous, a familiar bang in the distance as she sat with smoke pouring out of the bonnet, defeated.

"_Fuck!_" She brought her fist down on the dashboard in frustration, until she heard the explosion of another car behind her. It had flipped.

She instantly turned around in her seat to examine the car, now with the driver hanging upside down, a smug smile on her face. She may not have done it herself, but it was the result she had strived for.

"_Jesus fuckin' Christ._" Troy was slumped in his chair, rubbing his forehead as every tension that he had built in the past half an hour slowly dissipated.

She just felt immensely proud of herself, honking her horn with pride, making him jump in his chair. The reaction from him was expected, and if anything, it made her smile wider.

"Did I do good?" She asked, though she had a feeling she knew what he was going to say.

"You did fuckin' awful. Still, you did the job. Kinda." He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the car that had flipped, flames quickly beginning to form.

"Troy—You're a man after my own heart." She grinned, not waiting to see his reaction as she jumped out of his car, walking a little closer to the flaming spectacle. The flames were growing, and in seconds it would explode into a pile of charred metal and cinders. She stood, transfixed, until a hand wrapped in her sweatshirt, tugging her back to the sidewalk. He did it just in time, as the car blew, components scattering around the road side, a car door landing where she had stood previously.

"Don't _do _shit like that. You could'a been blown to hell." Troy's eyes were narrowed, angrier than he probably should have been. She raised an eyebrow, challenging whatever he was going to say as he sucked in a breath.

It never came, and instead, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lighting it, before heading back into the car. She followed, this time retreating to the passenger seat. She had a feeling that if she so much as looked at that steering wheel again, she'd vomit.

"Hopefully I can get this piece of shit working…" He sighed in frustration, until the car roared to life, eyebrows raised. He wasn't the only one that was surprised.

"You goin' back to the row?" He asked, as placed a hand on the back of her chair so that he could reverse, shifting back in his seat.

"Nah—Can you drop me off at the loft?" She asked.

He nodded, sitting in silence as he seamlessly manoeuvred the car through traffic. She was envious, even though she'd never admit it.

"So-what brings you to Stilwater, anyway?" He asked, and she took the moment to blink at him, eyebrows raised.

"—Why're you looking at me like that?" He continued. "It's fuckin' obvious you weren't born here."

"Wanted a fresh start." Her answer was blunt, and she didn't want to tell him anything else. She trusted him, but not enough to start spilling out her heart to him. If she was lucky, she could spare him of it entirely.

"From what?" He asked. The guy didn't know when to stop.

"Got bored."

It was a total lie, and if he fell for it, he wasn't as clever as she thought. The raise of his eyebrows discredited that, and disbelief was apparent on his face.

"Bullshit." He responded, but he didn't touch on the subject again. She was grateful for that.

As he pulled up outside the loft, his eyes lingered on her, for the fourth time that evening. But this time, she had nothing else to focus on, no race, no driving. To her horror, she could feel a blush spreading over her face as she quickly hopped out of the car.

"Night Becca." He called after her, and she didn't turn around, instead, yanking at her stiff door until it gave way, finally calling over her shoulder.

"Yeah… Night."

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I had to, please don't hate me :C

Okay so hopefully this was okay, and thankyou for reading


	5. Brothers and sisters

So, lo and behold, it's _angst! _Rebecca meets a face from her past. Going a little into her backstory here.

**DISCLAIMER: **Okay you're probably getting bored of this, but.. Don't own anything. Seriously. Nor do I own 'it wasn't me', heh.

* * *

The chorus of Shaggy's 'it wasn't me' blared through Rebecca's apartment as she desperately rooted around for her phone, throwing dirty socks, used tights, and the occasional t-shirt over her shoulder until she retrieved her phone, in all its Nokia glory.

She let out a breathless greeting to Johnny, who responded with his usual, light-hearted insult, before his tone turned serious. The kind of serious that stopped her in her tracks.

"_No but listen 'Becks. There's some guy hangin' round the church. Says he wants to talk to you. You owe anyone?" _

"Okay—Uh, no—I don't. Know his name?" She asked him, pulling on some leggings as she did. It wasn't exactly interfering with her plans. She had taken the day off to eat unhealthy amounts of food, and sleep for more hours than she probably should.

"_Yeah—Says he's called Darren. Ring any bells?" _

The name instantly made her halt, hand stilled mid-action as her contented humming faded out. It was the first time she had heard than name in too many years.

"_Becks?—Fuck, you mongin' out again?"_

"I'm coming to the church. Don't move." She put the phone down before he could even reply, slipping on beaten old shoes, as she ran out of the apartment. The thought of locking her door went straight over her head, in a flurry of conflicted confusion, and a slither of hope.

Her apartment was just around the corner of the church, but even if she was on the other side of Stilwater, it wouldn't have mattered. She would have ran all the way.

She heard him before she saw him, gruff tones that didn't quite fit with the memory she had of him. Darren was the better sibling. Had always been on the straight and narrow. Straight A's, top attendance. Model student.

Rebecca, on the other hand, wasn't exactly so. She attained average grades throughout her childhood, and in many ways was a fairly average child. Though, she made up for her intellect in her ability to dance. A passion that her parents held a level of pride over. Though, being a ballet dancer, wasn't going to benefit her in the long run. Not when she was rolling with a gang.

Darren was supposedly killed in a gang shoot-out when she was thirteen. That was one of the main reasons she joined the saints. To rebel. Her parents had a hatred for gang warfare stronger than any she had ever seen, and naturally, the only way to deeply wound them was to join the life that they feared for years. It was a cold, and selfish decision on her part, one that she had questioned in the month since she was saved from that street corner. But she wasn't leaving now. She was in too deep, and a small part of her was too attached to her newly found dysfunctional family.

He must have heard her, because he turned, smug, and cocky, cigarette lit as he brought it to his lips. It was unmistakably him. Worn down, and rough around the edges, with dyed black hair, but completely, utterly her brother.

"Long time no see, huh, Rebecca?" He asked.

It was calm, too calm. Too calm for her sibling that she hadn't seen in four years. Too civil for a person she grieved over, and ultimately blamed herself for his death.

"This—_Thing, _isn't funny. I don't know how the guys did it—But, this is past the fucking line." She pointed at him, teeth clenched. She knew, somewhere, that it was too real to be a joke. Too accurate. Too _serious. _

"Don't you recognize your brother? I'm here. In the flesh." He folded his arms so nonchalantly that, it decided her next action, right there.

She swung for him.

It was bound to happen. As her fist hit his face, he staggered backwards, meeting the wall as he gingerly pressed a hand to his lip.

"Unexpected, but—" He started, she cut into him before he could finish.

"You're supposed to be _dead. _Buried. Six foot under. _Gone_. " She finished her collection of death synonyms as she staggered back from where he stood, too confused, and more or less disgusted to be any closer in proximity.

"Clearly not." His response was blunt. It only aggravated her more.

"Stop being such a wise-ass, and tell me what's going on here." Her throat was closing, making it harder to force her words, and even less so to utter them with stern conviction.

"I didn't die." He said, raising a brow.

"Darr—" She started, her tone challenging, warning him that she would probably strike him again.

"—Okay, okay, Christ, where's your sense of humour gone?" He paused, looking at her for any change in facial expression. When he was met with the same, stony exterior, that conveyed little, to no emotion at all, he continued. "Anyway—after the shoot-out, I was fine, wasn't hurt, wanted to take a breather. Came over here. Joined some pretty cool guys. "

"—Guys?" She didn't want to know the answer.

"They're called The Vice Kings."

"Cool." Out of all the words in the english dictionary, all the words that accurately convey her emotions, that was the word she chose.

Her bluntness surprised her, and him. She wore the majority of her emotions on her sleeve, but this, was almost as if she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She acted as though she was discussing the weather, not confronting her miraculously alive brother.

"_Cool? _I started a new chapter of my life—And all you can say is _cool?_"

"They missed you—A _lot. _While you're starting a new chapter." She laughed, bitterly, looking anywhere but him. "Y'know, they'd go to your grave. Beg you to come back. Cry, weep. Everything. And you were too busy getting high off your head to give a flying _fuck._" She spat the last word, her mask still intact, still unfeeling. Seemingly, anyway.

"You're like—Christ you've changed. You're like some fucking _machine._" He countered. The last word stung her, and she visibly stiffened, the emotionless façade stalling there and then, as she resembled a deer in the headlights, eyes wide.

The aftermath was silence. No words from him, or her. Not challenging, or hurting. Just her numb mind processing what she wanted to do next. With a small intake of breath, she regained her composure, her expression not faltering.

"Get out of my face, you piece of _shit_." Her voice was collected, but dangerously low, as she kept her eye contact with him. It was a losing battle. He always had intimidated her, always loomed over her with his height. But he ultimately dropped away, shrinking into the shoddily lit streets of Stilwater.

It left her with a flickering street light, barely lighting the road, and sodden skin. For a second, she stared at the space that he occupied, just a second ago, before dropping dispelling the emotions that she had somehow kept under lock and chain, with a long exhale.

The walk home was filled with thoughts of self-pity, and a constant niggling thought in her brain. One that wouldn't leave her alone, even as she stood in the shower, washing away the feeling of disgust, and the smell of cannabis from her nostrils, which her brother was ultimately the cause of.

She stepped out of the shower with the same perspective, the same numbness, that had been present when she entered it. When she finally slipped into her shitty excuse of a bed, with a fresh change of clothes, and wet hair, for once, it wasn't the five springs pushing in her back that stopped her from sleeping.

She knew, that he was out there, in a gang that they were plotting against. And if Julius was correct, a gang that would be gone by the end of the month. Chances are, he'd just be another wannabe killed by a Saints gun. But by far, the most disturbing thought was that he'd be on the end of her .45, and she'd be the one pulling the trigger, slaughtering the only family she had left in a bid to impress her gang. Her peers.

The thought wouldn't leave, and she eventually, in a brief moment of self-pity and weakness, began to cry, small stifled sobs echoing around a hollow apartment.

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Okay, so that's that done.

Sorry for the slow upload! Thankyou for the follows and reviews. They've put a real smile on my face! c:


	6. Lightweight

So this has been a long delay, and I apologize for that!

Here's an opportunity for Rebecca to let her hair down. only so much murdering you can do without a party. This chapter contains a few mentions of **drug use. **

Once again, **I don't own anything.**

(Thank You to Chyrstis for being so encouraging, as always.)

Also: **I've just realized that I put Darren in the wrong gang for the last chapter **(like a tit) **I've amended it so that it fits with the story.**

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"Yo." The voice of Johnny cut her away from smoking mindlessly, legs dangling over the walls of the church.

She turned to him with a nod, expecting a job, or something to keep her mind off yesterday's encounter. Instead, he plucked the cigarette from her mouth, taking a drag from it, before returning it back to her.

She opened her mouth to protest before he cut into her with a loud sigh.

"So—We gonna talk about that Darren guy? You got some good hits in. For you. " He noted. So he had seen the encounter after all.

"You watched, huh?" She swallowed thickly, waiting for a judgement from the lieutenant, who simply shrugged.

"Somethin' like that. Bad fuck?" He asked, genuinely curious.

His comment made her choke on the smoke that she had inhaled, eyes wide as he slapped her back roughly. It didn't necessarily help.

"_What_? I haven't hooked up with him—_Jesus._" She shuddered at the thought, stubbing out her cigarette on the wall, before flicking the butt over her shoulder.

"So—What? Stop being all mysterious and shit. I'm tryin' to talk to you here." He sounded irritated, but so was she.

"I don't wanna talk about it." She muttered, hanging her head low.

That seemed to irritate him further. The loud sigh made it apparent he was still ready, and waiting for an answer. An answer that she certainly didn't want to give.

"He's—" she hesitated. "He's family."

"Brother?"

It annoyed her how on point he was. He knew he had her when she closed her eyes. She could practically _feel _that smug grin coming from him.

"Yep. Brother. Now drop it." She muttered, trying to sound threatening which clearly didn't come across the way she planned, due to the laugh she got in reply.

"Woah. Someone's got their panties in a twist." He grinned, slapping her on the back once more, emitting an audible wince from her, before getting up.

"Yo, Eesh wants to talk to you. Get your ass up." He yelled over his shoulder, disappearing into the church.

She rolled her eyes at his bluntness, unbeknownst to him, before jumping off the wall, walking to the entrance of the church. She assumed that Aisha would be in Johnny's makeshift office, which was where she headed first, scuffing her feet on the stone floor, still in a sulk.

However, her mood soon lifted when she saw Aisha, arms wide, ready for a hug, which she gladly gave. Holding onto her before slinking away, trying to act entirely nonchalant.

"There's a party on the row, and me and Johnny were wondering—If you wanted to come?" She asked, smiling softly, though the look on Johnny's face told her that he certainly hadn't put forward the idea at all.

Just to aggravate him, she nodded, smile wide.

"Sure, I'd love to."

The groan from Johnny was loud enough to make her laugh loudly.

{- - - - - - - - - - - - - -}

Rebecca was pretty sure her deep red lipstick was on her teeth by this point, but she was clutching so tightly onto her plastic cup of piss-poor beer, that she didn't really care.

She was in some underground shit hole with no running water and no light to speak of. But the dim torches substituted enough for a light source. It wasn't exactly the haven that Aisha had made it out to be, but it made it more fun in her eyes. You didn't know who you were grinding against, nor bumping into.

But on her sixth cup of it, she didn't really care. The combination of alcohol and weed made her overly happy, even with the vague smell vomit to the left of her, and she had no idea whether she had stood in it or not. Still, it didn't stop her from reaching for the nearest guy she could find, pulling him into shaking arms, grin wide.

The gesture was reciprocated, and before she knew it, she was kissing a man she had never seen the face of, his silhouette lit by a hanging torch above their heads. The music was loud enough for her to ignore the rest of the party around her, and she was biting down gently on his lip before she was pulled away by a girl she'd seen once or twice around the row, pulling her to a table that had a candle as light. She could vaguely make out the face of Johnny and Aisha. Though he seemed to be more drunk than his girlfriend was.

The grin on Rebecca's face was wide, slightly dopey, and a little lopsided, but he was returning it nonetheless, arm wrapped tight around Aisha's waist. Aisha didn't seem to be enjoying it _quite _as much as Johnny was, but she was making no attempt to move, her eyes bright as she gingerly sipped from her vodka and coke.

"So how's it going? I mean—yeah. Going." Rebecca dumbly paused, appearing to be in thought. "Going?" She questioned her word of choice once, before shrugging off her initial confusion with a wide smile. The only response she got was a snicker from Johnny as he handed her a concoction with a straw precautiously hanging from the rim.

She didn't question it, as she instinctively brought it to her lips, the taste running over her tongue. Her smile widened, if possible, as Aisha's dainty fingernails tapped on her shoulder. Rebecca looked up to see the aspiring singer reach out for the cup, which Rebecca handed over without question.

Rebecca looked to her for a reaction, and when Aisha's face mirrored her own, that childish snort of hers was back. Johnny shook his head as he stumbled to his feet, propping his weight on the chair next to him. He nodded to her drink, a silent question of whether she wanted more. She nodded, and he only laughed, pushing through the growing crowd to retrieve a cup from the fridge.

Aisha was over to her in an instant, half draped on the sofa, half draped on her. The cup was frequently exchanged between them , and by the time Johnny returned five minutes later, it was three quarters empty. He did nothing to separate them, instead propping his feet on the table between them, knocking over Aisha's drink in the process. From the look on Aisha's face, she didn't really mind.

She staggered up from the chair she was sat in, pulling Aisha into some drunkard hug where her arms didn't quite wrap around her, but it was the notion that counted, right?

Her journey from their secluded spot to the centre of the room was hazardous. She tripped over a discarded shoe, only to be pulled up by the girl who dragged her over to Aisha and Johnny earlier. The woman barely registered, as Rebecca leant in to peck at her lips anyway, laughing when she withdrew, drink still in hand. And then there was a strange pair of lips at her neck, but she laughed at that too, pushing him off with a flick of the hand, before turning to face him.

In their torch lit area, he wasn't handsome, but strangely attractive. And she recognised his body as the guy she kissed earlier. She downed a shot handed to her by a party goer, before slowly leaning forward to kiss him again until-

-A pair of arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into the bathroom. She was ready to grin, maybe flirt a little, but that wide grin soon faded when she saw who it was.

It was _Troy. _She couldn't even avoid him here. He was probably ten years older than the majority of the attendees, and she couldn't smell a drop of alcohol on him. But that could have been her senses on the brink.

His face was calculated as he slowly worked out how drunk he was. He didn't even look angry. Just disappointed. It did little to deter her, as she quickly pressed her lips to his cheek, to which he froze, hesitating, before grabbing her wrist, to drag her through the crowd of people.

"Ow—_Ow. _Troy- c'mon _man_ I—_ow!" _The hips of several people jarred into her as she halted him for a moment, tearing her wrist away from his hand to quickly peck Aisha on the cheek, saluting Johnny with two fingers as she passed by them at the exit.

Troy didn't seem to care. His fingers were back on her again, digging into her wrist hard enough to hurt, but she kept her mouth shut, feeling that any comment she uttered would make him explode.

When they were safely out of the party, and standing under a street light, she winced, not having adjusted to the outdoors. It must have been about four in the morning, hence the bags under his eyes. Upon thinking about it, she could smell the tiniest hint of alcohol on his breath.

"What the fuck Troy?" She asked him, straining her eyes, so that she could lean on the lamppost. She misjudged the distance and lost her footing, feeling her back slam against the wall. He didn't move, simply folding his arms over his chest, sighing.

"You're fuckin' wasted. Jesus Christ. And you _stink_ of weed. " His eyes went over her once, eyes lingering on the mark on her neck, before moving to her snapped heel with nothing short of a sigh.

She paused, dumbly, before opening her mouth to speak. "_So?_" The thought struck her dumb as she blinked, eyes wide. "Shit man, _shit, _I didn't—I didn't—" She started giggling between her sentences. He was really starting to get annoyed, she could tell.

"—I didn't say happy birthday to—that _guy. _Y'know the birthday guy. Guy." She looked sullen for a second, lip drooping, before it broke, and instantly, there was that wide, dopey grin on her lips.

"Yeah. That'd be me." He shook his head, prying her off the wall and she followed obediently, albeit with a little struggle due to her snapped shoe. His reply must have only just sunk in, because she halted, causing him to turn around to her, and she could have sworn, for a moment, he looked concerned.

"_Your _birthday? Oh shit! But, everyone was like—20 years younger than you." She murmured, apparently still in thought.

"_What? _Okay seriously, —How fuckin' old do you think I am?" He asked, eyebrows raised, but he was met with an indecisive snort.

She clung tight onto his arm in fear that she'd fall again, the wind beginning to pick up so that her hair was flung around her face. It only just occurred to her that she had no idea where she was going.

"Can I—Y'know— Crash at yours?" She asked, her expression showing she was entirely serious. He blinked once, and then frowned, going over the implications in his head.

"I don't think that'd be a great idea 'Becca." The frown was still on his face, and for a moment, despite the eyeliner that had smudged, and looking past her knotted brown hair that was constantly being swept out of her eyes, she looked strangely attractive.

"I won't try anything. I promise. C'mon Troy. My apartments like—Half an hour away. Or something. Maybe an hour." She considered it in her head before she decided on; "An hour, 23 minutes."

He rolled his eyes, but pulled her along anyway. It was a stupid decision, they were both drunk. And perhaps she was far more intoxicated in comparison to himself, but he was still wary. Maybe putting a wall between them would do it.

"Fine. I'll take the couch. But when we get there, do your shit, and just, stay in one place—" The ground rules he set would inevitably be ignored, he knew that, and he also knew that taking an eighteen year old girl back to his apartment would be viewed as slightly strange among the other lieutenants.

But she'd promised. And he _thought_ he knew her well enough to know she didn't break promises. Even when she was wasted.

"Thank-you." She cooed, extending her vowels with a wide grin, that he found hard to ignore. He made a point of rolling his eyes, before she eventually slung her arm over his shoulder, stumbling every so often.

{- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - }

She woke with bleary eyes, in an unfamiliar bed, and a hangover that felt like she was slowly dying. The room was sparsely decorated, with an occasional hand written note safety pinned to the wall. She was dressed in the clothes that she went out in, one shoe on, the other having fallen off when she slept.

Still not having any clue where she was, she slowly stumbled up from the bed, opening the door that she presumed leaded to the kitchen, and was met with Troy, flat out asleep on the sofa. Mouth open, one leg falling out of a hazardly thrown blanket. Her eyes widened as she instinctively shut the door immediately, considering her options.

What she most wanted to do, was to crawl back into his bed and stay there until she didn't feel like she was going to be sick any moment. But what she knew what she was going to do, leave as soon as she could.

She slipped her shoes back on, creeping around his bedroom, before running her fingers through her hair. She had no recollection of the night previous, and though it was unlikely anything happened, with him in the lounge, and her in the bedroom, she still thought it best to make her escape.

Had she tried something on with him? Her evident tiny affection for him was growing to something that she didn't even want to _consider, _and the last thing she wanted was to confront that, with him a mere metre away.

The attempt at gathering her things was less than successful, as the contents of her bag emptied over the wood laminate.

"_Shit_!" She hissed, grabbing handfuls of makeup, cigarettes, and ammo and hauling them into her open bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she crept to the door, gingerly shutting it behind her.

She hesitated near him, wanting to at least inform him she was leaving. But that meant more awkward conversation. The urge to vomit tore her away from her affection as she quickly stumbled out of his door, waking him up in the process, as she staggered down the stairs, managing to get out of his apartment building, and a few steps beyond, before she lurched, emptying her stomach onto the floor.

With a grimace, she swiped her hand across her mouth, before stumbling to the stairs of the train station. Her phone wasn't in her bag, and she didn't want to use Troy's phone, just in case.

The wait for the EL was a long one. She spent it nibbling at her bitten nails, smoothing down her appearance as the wind picked up, throwing her hair about her face. She didn't know what time it was, but it must have been early, as the sun was only just rising, making her screw her eyes up in frustration.

She sifted through her bag to find two left over ibuprofens, which she hastily threw into her mouth, swallowing them down as a train came to a stop in front of her. With a grace that she didn't know she possessed, she hauled herself up, and into a seat, collapsing into a heap in the chair.

She honestly regretted not staying at Troy's. Every lurch in the track sent her stomach into her throat, and every time she shifted, or attempted to move, the feeling of wanting to be sick hit her, and she'd return to her seat.

After what seemed like forever and a day, the train slowly came to a stop, as her arms reached around to hold herself in some attempt to get warmer. She slowly descended the stairs, the cold biting at her skin as the wind repeatedly blew her into a wall.

She was close to home, and the moment her feet passed through her door, she quickly pulled off her shoes, feeling the carpet beneath her feet, as she ran to the bathroom.

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So, that's that done. Once again, apologize for the delay, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Hope you all have a lovely day, and thanks for reading x


	7. Watery grave

Apologies for the late upload, Rebecca is being difficult to work with.

This is the start of some damn bad times, but also of Troy/Becca fun times, so what the hell, right?

**Disclaimer: Deep silver and voliton own everything hurrah**

Enjoy c:

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The hangover from hell still held her firm in its grasp as her home phone echoed throughout her apartment.

As of yet, only one person had that number, and that was Dex. How he'd even acquired it, she didn't know, but every time that phone rung, she knew that he had another plan up his sleeve.

One that she and Johnny always ignored anyway.

"Fuck _me_." She groaned, pulling herself away from the toilet as she stumbled to her feet, unhooking the phone from its stand.

"We need you at the church. Head over as soon as you can." He sounded as irritated as he usually did, and she couldn't help rolling her eyes. Raising her middle finger to the phone, even though she couldn't see. It was childish, and immature of her, but it was fun to embrace that every so often.

"Yeah, sure."

Before he could comment on how offhand she was, she put the phone back on its receiver, ending the call, before pulling on her shoes.

The baggy hoodie and leggings with various holes did little to enhance her bedraggled appearance, but at this point, she didn't care. Her constant attempts to look her best, representing the gang, had gone out of the window, and she was reduced to a staggering mess with purple rings under her eyes.

As she walked across the road to reach the church, she knew she wasn't in for an easy run. The small collection of purple gathering in the courtyard meant something out of the ordinary. On a day when all she wanted to blend in, it wasn't what she wanted to see.

With the vice kings crushed, and all but the Rollerz and the Carnales remaining, everyone needed an inspirational speech from Julius, and it seemed that was what they were going to get.

Julius automatically held a silent authority, just by standing. He made even the most hardened thugs stop and listen, and his word was always final. Next to him stood Troy, and aside from the prominent bags under his eyes, he looked as same as ever.

Julius' speech did little to cheer her, and for the majority of it, she remained hunched over, eyes narrowed to passer-by's.

She spent the rest of the morning in a constant mood, going out of her way to avoid anyone ready to approach her. It was drawing more attention to her by all means, but she didn't attempt to amend the situation.

It was only the wrenching down of her hood that made her wince against the light, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand, which was pulled away by Johnny. His face was one of pure amusement.

"Fuck me—You look like _shit._" He raised his brows.

She wondered how him and Troy looked entirely the same, whilst she had bags under her eyes, and coffee breath.

"No shit." She grumbled, to which he laughed. "Can I go home now?"

"Nah. Troy wants to see you."

At his comment, she groaned audibly, resting her head in her hands. She knew that meant a lecture, a lecture that told her she was too young to throw her life away in some underground shit hole. But she was going to endure it, because she had to.

"Yo, everyone saw you go to his place." Johnny studied her expression, his brows creasing, before coming to a conclusion. You fucked, didn't you—?"

Her eyes widened instinctively as she shook her head so hard that it started to hurt. It stopped him from being able to see the pink tint that had started to emerge on her cheeks.

"Whatever. I don't give a fuck. Go on Becca, don't keep a lady waiting." The smug grin on his face really made her want to hit him, though with Johnny, that was never a good idea.

So instead she pulled herself off the wall, every step making her slouch over as she rapped her knuckles against his door. Her hands instinctively moved to her hood, hauling it up as she heard commotion from the other side of the door.

"Come in."

It reminded her of waiting outside the principal's office. Head hung low, shuffling into his thinking space with clear guilt all over her features as she was inevitably lectured upon her behaviour.

She did just that, shuffling into his office with a total lack of grace. She kicked at the stone with every step she took, finally coming to a begrudging halt a metre away from his desk.

"What d'you want?" Her voice was low, gruff, with her throat sore.

"You remember much of last night?" He inquired, eyebrows raised.

She shook her head, reluctant to speak much from her raw throat.

"Didn't catch that." Troy said, folding his arms.

It seemed his goal was to make her as uncomfortable as possible, and it was working. She was turning tomato red, shifting one foot over the other.

"No."

"You got high off your head, completely wasted, and made out with five guys you'd never met before." He told her, with still no change in his expression.

She visibly shrunk under his scrutinizing, hunched further than before.

"Did we uh—" She broke off, trying to voice her question correctly. If she didn't do this right, she'd have to endure awkward conversations from Troy for the foreseeable future. "And I know this sounds stupid but- Did we—Fuck?" She asked, gingerly.

She noticed his resolve crack for a moment, blinking quickly before he was back to his usual, nonchalant self.

"_No_." His response was blunt, just like she expected.

"Okay. That's a relief. I guess. Can I go?" She began to walk backwards—

"No."

She halted still in her tracks, half losing her balance as he cocked his head towards his desk, indicating her to come closer.

She did so, reluctantly, coming to a stop just short of his chair. What she didn't expect, however, was for him to pull her hood down gently, his expression faltering for just a moment when he saw how rough she truly was.

His hand lingered on her cheek to which she froze, eyes wide, cheeks turning that familiar pink that always seemed to hang around when he was in the general area.

"You look awful." He told her, sincerely.

She rolled her eyes, retracting herself from his hand. He had effectively ruined their little moment and she was folding her arms in an instant.

"Thanks Troy. I mean—Sometimes I think, wow Troy's a total ass. But then you tell me stuff like that, and I realize how much of a _good _friend you are, y'know?" Her sarcastic, and bitter tone only gained her an upturn of his lip.

The way he was looking at her was making her shift in her seat. He kept his eyes lingering on her mouth, letting it get to the point where she had to make a quick decision.

She should just cut and run, make some awful excuse. So she did.

"My grandma's just died."

His reaction was to pull away from their close proximity immediately, eyebrows raised. And the only though that repeatedly ran through her head made her eyes widen;

'_I am a horrible person.'_

Her grandma was in fact alive, and at seventy nine, she was still going strong. It was her sudden realization that she had cursed her forever.

Her haste to leave was what made her vault towards the door, her foot catching on the corner of an upturned stone, the result being that her face landed on the doorknob, making a flood of crimson pour out of her nose.

"_Fuck!_" She hissed, as she collected herself, wrenching open his door to bolt out into the courtyard, sleeve attempting to stem the blood.

{-}

Rebecca had spent her entire afternoon driving around prawn court with nothing better to do than replay that moment in her head, on a loop. Chastising herself for what she could have said, or done better. But the call from Lin made it all worthwhile.

"The Rollerz are getting into something big."

It sounded promising, and a worthy distraction, so she drove to the pool hall as fast as she could, with two burnt out wheels and no rear bumper.

The blue car to her left should have told her it was a set up from the beginning. But she was so self-absorbed that she blanked it completely. With one last thought, she threw her phone into the back seat of her car.

She pushed open the door ready and armed with garbled apologies and excuses for her tardiness, but instead she was met with Lin, unconscious, and bound.

Lin was slumped in the chair, deep breaths echoing around the cramped space. Crimson was beginning to crust around the crown of her head, and the rope binding her wrists looked tight enough to hurt. It was an image that made the wide grin diminish immediately, her throat instantly dropping to her stomach.

She was plucking at the rope before she even registered it herself. Either way, it was useless. The insistent tugging from her fingers was probably causing Lin more discomfort than anything.

"C'mon Lin—Stop being lazy." She joked awkwardly, though to no-one.

At the small sound of a groan, she was up on her feet immediately, rushing to her aid. Her hands latched onto her shoulders, and she knew that shaking her would do little to help her state, but that thought left as soon as the bat hit her head, knocking her straight to the floor.

Her head snapped up, banging on the roof of the confined space she was in. Slowly trying to determine how much room she had, she kicked out, only for her foot to meet something solid. The 'solid' something let out a loud grunt, to which she retracted her legs immediately.

"Thanks." Lin's voice came across unaffected by the situation they were in, and almost sounded her cocky, sarcastic self.

The steady rumbling of an exhaust confirmed her assumption and her fear. Tires rolled over tarmac as her heart started to slam against her ribcage. She struggled against the rope binding her wrist, attempting to ease her hand out of the hold.

The slow shifting of her counterpart sent Lin's trainer a good inch away from her face, making her squirm to avoid it.

"Quit being a baby—Here, I got my lighter."

The statement immediately made her hands scrabble cross the interior, searching in the pitch black for the lighter, which soon fit snugly in her hand. The cold metal sending an unpleasant rise of Goosebumps along her arm.

Her fingers slipped repeatedly over the lighter, clammy hands finally managing to extract a flame. Her shaking fingers and fire was a recipe for disaster, one that was enunciated by the flame licking her wrist.

"Fuck!"

She dropped it immediately, but the lighter was the last thing on her mind as the car ground to a halt.

Her actions became more animated as she quickly scrabbled for the lighter again, burning the remnants of the rope off her wrist, before turning to Lin.

The lighter had just begun to touch the rope before the lid opened, and she was halted in her tracks.

A glare of light from the surroundings made her wince, eyes having adjusted to the darkness of the trunk. The glare of the man before her matched her own, and she tried to mirror her threatening stance, despite the way she was trussed up in the trunk.

The next few moments passed by in the blink of an eye, one moment Lin's words fell out in rapid succession, the next the echoing of a gunshot rung through her ears. She didn't even recognize the occurrence until the weak murmur of pain became clear.

Rebecca didn't think he'd fire, she'd dangerously underestimated him. She was still waiting for that reprisal, scare tactics.

But he had fired, and there they were. Lin groaning and bleeding, Rebecca waiting with nervous apprehension for the next shot. And when it came, when she saw white, that familiar numbness spreading through her lower half, she made little commotion.

She curled in on herself with nothing but a pained whimper, crimson slowly starting to stem between her fingers, a blot of red expanding on her hoodie. Her fingers rested there, clutching onto her abdomen whilst some mute thought told her that she couldn't die. Not like this. She still had so much to prove.

The sharp intake of breath from Lin meant that she was still alive, and though it was weak, she felt Lin's hand cross over to her side of the trunk, her hand brushing against her thigh. The familiar warmth by her side meant that she would be able to get out. They'd be okay.

The car dropped and so did she, back slamming into the side of the trunk, letting out a weak groan as they landed. What they landed on however, she wasn't sure until the beginning of a steady stream of water hit her shoes. She looked down in her haze to see water forming in a small pool, already covering her ankles.

She figured that she had a good thirty seconds before she sunk, and in her panic, her fingers curled around the rope that bound Lin, tugging with enough force to hurt her.

"Gonna be okay—Gonna be okay." Rebecca repeated like a mantra, but her efforts willed down to one syllable by the time the water reached her jaw.

They were trapped in a car that was soon sinking. They were going to drown, alone and bleeding, desperately clawing for air through their watery grave.

"Be okay—_Be _okay."

She lifted her head so that it met the roof of the trunk, craning her neck as far as she could so that the water lapped at her lower lip.

"Did you hear that asshole Donnie? He said I was his _girl._" It was pained, and riddled with slow breaths, but it was unmistakably Lin, and unmistakably _alive. _

She would have to kick it out.

Taking the last lungful of air she could, she ducked under the water so that she could kick at the hatch, slamming her foot down with as much effort as she could muster.

The metal curled under her foot, as she couldn't see her actions, her foot repeatedly making contact with the lid until the latch gave, and the water flowed in relentlessly, before she could take in a breath.

She turned to tug at the waist of Lin, hands scrabbling uselessly at her frame, but the weak kick from Lin's trainer into her chest sent her reeling, eyes wide, in the open water, clawing her way down to the car, that was steadily sinking.

The shock of the water made her gasp, allowing a mouthful of seawater in her lungs. She wanted to cough, to expel the water from her airways To breathe dirty air that hung in Stilwater, but all she could do was claw at her throat and will herself to hold the limited air in her lungs.

Her legs propelled her closer to the surface, and the hazy image of the moon was becoming clearer as she finally broke the surface, taking gasps of dirty, foggy air. One hand rested on her stomach, whilst she willed herself to dive under the surface again, eyes streaming, movements weak.

At the sight of nothing, no car, no _Lin, _she clawed further at the water, quickly running out of breath, blood, and strength, as she finally pulled herself upwards.

The wall next to her became her haven as she clung to the concrete. Setting her hands on the gravel as leverage, before swinging her leg, with a large amount of effort, over the side. With half her body on, she rolled onto her back, desperately wanting to lie there, and not move an inch.

But she couldn't let Lin down. Her sharp, ragged breaths echoed throughout the small corner of Stilwater, as she pulled herself up onto all fours.

The shot on her abdomen was still bleeding profusely, but due to the shock of the cold, she didn't feel a thing. She didn't feel the shattered glass embed itself into her knee, nor did she feel the violent shivers that were racking through her body as she reached her car.

Her fist weakly made contact of the window, with no result, so she ushered her shaking hand for the nearest stone she could find, lobbing it at her window with her last remaining strength. Her fingers caught on the glass shards as she leaned forwards, retrieving her phone from the car, before sagging instantly, slumped against the black rubber of her tire.

The ringing tone tormented her as she let one hand apply pressure to her stomach, the other securing her phone in place. Her breath was still coming out in sharp inhales, and she was begging for him to pick up. For Lin.

"What?" Troy's voice broke through the line. She'd had better greetings, but right now, she didn't really care.

When all he got in return was a pained exhale, his tone became irritated.

"Becca—"

No response.

"—Rebecca?"

Her pants were ragged, and every breath she took in hurt. She sucked in a breath, uttering three tiny words.

"Please help me."

"_What? _Rebecca? You okay?" His tone had gone borderline irritated to concerned in five seconds, and she found herself staring down at her legs. Shards of glass embedded in her knees, blood streaming down her thigh from her abdomen, a prominent burn on her wrist. Not to mention the blood crusting around her head from the bat.

Her reply hardly made a functioning sentence, but he must have caught the general gist, because he was moving on the other end of the line.

"I think—I think I'm dying..." She muttered slowly, and strangely, she wasn't worried about her impending probable death. But from the sound of his panicked tones, he clearly was.

"Listen, I'm coming—Just—stay calm, okay? I'm gonna call an ambulance, and they'll help Lin. Where are you?" He asked.

"Somewhere. I can see—Ultor Dome. I think." Her response grew quieter as her eyes slipped closed, feeling by all means relaxed, head resting against the cold metal of her car.

"I'm coming. Don't move."

She had no intention to, but speaking had become increasingly difficult, and she had given up on moving all together. She was comfortable in her numb slumber, phone slipping dumbly from her fingers as the repeated concern from Troy continued down the line.

* * *

So I gave no warning of this whatsoever please dont hate me and I hope this wasnt a fuck up yay

Review if you like, it'd be damn cool. x

Also have an amazing day C:


	8. Just friends

So this has been a long wait which I can only apologize for! Hope it was worth it.

**As usual, I don't own a thing.**

**(Also thankyou so much for the reviews, they make a massive difference. Thanks to chyrstis as always for listening to my incoherent rambles)**

* * *

The gentle tapping of a shoe finally woke Rebecca up, eyes heavy as lead, with wires disappearing into her hand. The whole get up confused her for a few seconds, eyes widening as much as she could allow, but when the stream of memories came back, she knew she couldn't have expected differently.

Her eyes travelled to the small corner of purple, braids spilling out of a styled cap. It didn't take her long at all to realize who it was.

The groan that fell out of her mouth made Aisha's head rise in an instant, and even through narrowed eyes she could see the crease of the brow.

"Hey—Uh—You okay?"

It was a stupid question, considering that she was hooked up to all sorts of machines and had a wire stuck in her hand, but she knew that Aisha was just concerned, and that was better than anything.

"Nope." Rebecca replied.

"Oh." It was better than nothing.

"So—Shit—" Rebecca coughed loudly, straining her neck to look over the other beds. "Lin's on this ward—Right?"

Aisha's face told her the answer as soon as she asked. And for a minute she chastised herself on why she had been so stupid to think Lin had survived.

"But—" It was a sentence she was never going to finish, and they both knew that.

"She uh—They found her in the car—This morning."

Rebecca swallowed then, and she knew it wasn't Aisha's fault, that she was unfortunate to be the bearer of bad news, but the minute Rebecca's lips hardened into a line, Aisha got up from her chair.

"Troy's comin' soon—They're letting you go. Want me to stay or-?"

Truth, was, Rebecca didn't want her to go at all. She wanted to cry and hug her and be all round dependent on someone else, but she didn't, and didn't reply either.

She would feel guilty afterwards. After she'd had a decent think about it. She'd buy an expensive necklace with the money cobbled together from her mother, money that was witling down fast.

The fragrant scent of Aisha was replaced with alcohol, and the IV being tugged out of her arm was soothed with a ripped band aid. Either way, this nurse had no medical training, or knew who she was. And thus, didn't care. She presumed it was the latter.

After her checks were complete, and she was de-wired, the nurse gave her one last tilt of the head, to which she gave the worst scowl she could muster, which wasn't convincing due to her situation.

Rebecca sat with her legs dangling from the bed, still dressed in a surgical gown, waiting for Troy's inevitable arrival.

The door slamming open pulled Rebecca away from her continual daydreaming, and seeing Troy stood there with his brows furrowed, cigarette barely hanging from his lip, she tried her best to give him a grin, a grin that ended up being a grimace.

"Jesus Christ you gave me a fucking heart attack back there." Troy shook his head deliberately, to which Rebecca scoffed, attempting to hop out of bed.

Her attempt led her face to slap against the ceramic floor, leading the rest of her to land in a crumpled heap. Her little remaining dignity had fallen with her as he rushed to her side, feeling pathetically like a damsel in distress.

"Hey—Easy, easy."

Once Troy's arm looped around her waist however, Rebecca forgot all about her strained breathing, and more on concentrating to get back onto her feet and not turning tomato red. Maybe she was just too drugged up to care.

"Sure you don't wanna stay another night? You don't look too good." Troy's eyes ran over her for a minute, bruised and scarred, but Rebecca only shook her head.

Troy made no comment after that and she was glad for it. Instead clinging onto him as tightly as she could, fiddling with her hair as he signed the papers.

* * *

As his car pulled up alongside her row of apartments, she swallowed, pulling herself away from the passenger seat.

"So—This is it."

Troy spoke as if his intention was to leave her there, and maybe that was exactly it. Either way, she didn't want to be left alone, and with Aisha back at the church and Johnny having not one sympathetic bone in his body , she only really had Troy to turn to.

"You're leaving me here?" Rebecca raised an eyebrow, before gripping onto his shoulder, erupting into a chorus of coughs and splutters.

"I uh—" Troy looked to her, before taking a sparing glance at her apartment, but once his shoulders sagged, she knew he had admitted defeat. "No. C'mon."

Rebecca gave only a small nod of appreciation, jabbing the elevator with her thumb. The reluctance of the doors to open clearly worried him, but a small tug of his shirt and he was pulled in after her.

The descent upwards was filled with no conversation, the occasional attempt at a whistle breaking through the cramped space.

"My keys are in the bag." Rebecca nodded to the patched black mess in his hand, one Troy had presumed was dragged underwater with her, due to the mess of it, but he made no comment, simply thumbing through her things to retrieve them.

Troy examined her card while he was looking for her keys, flicking through the makeup and various articles he found. Particularly her phone, which was still streaked with blood. The only thing he knew was the name on the card wasn't hers, unless, she wasn't who she said she was.

At the sound of Rebecca's impatient sigh, Troy quickly dropped her belongings back into the bag, hooking her keys around his little finger, before slipping it into the lock.

His arm returned to her waist, though she wasn't entirely sure she needed it anymore, she wasn't going to voice her thoughts.

"You need anything?" Troy's eyes darted around the bland room, with white washed walls and a beaten sofa in the corner.

"Could you get me a coffee or something? I'll be in my room."

Her room wasn't much better. Beige walls and an old carpet that stunk of beer. Still, it had personality, with the occasional newspaper clipping blu-tacked to the wall, and hazardly strung fairy lights selotaped above her bed.

It was budget, and cheap, but for Rebecca, it was home. Had been since she moved here. Maybe Troy didn't approve, but she wasn't going to get anything better any time soon.

The surgical gown was discarded with a wince, eyes slowly traveling down to the bandage around her stomach, before pulling on her yoga pants, careful to keep it lower than her hips.

Rebecca made sure to pull on the turtleneck before Troy could even enter her room, and she was thankful to have swerved it, otherwise she didn't think she'd ever be able to look him in the eye again.

"Becca?"

Rebecca nodded, pulling herself out straight. Troy threw the duvet over her so it landed on her chin, placing the coffee to one side.

"Nice digs." Troy said, before taking a seat on the edge of her bed. She could tell he was trying his best to start up conversation. Avert her attention from all the worries that would have been going through her head.

The worst thing about the situation was the awkward silence that hung in-between them, as she gazed down at her duvet clad toes, and he read the newspaper clippings across her wall. Noting that every single report of the third street saints activity was strung up with the rest.

"Were you worried?" Rebecca asked suddenly, setting her eyes on Troy for the first time since she'd arrived.

"_What?"_

"I mean—About me, I guess. Uh—" Rebecca swallowed thickly, sliding back down into the covers.

"What kinda question is that?" Troy frowned, finally looking at her.

"I dunno—I was just wondering." Her response was muffled due to the mouthful of duvet, but his expression didn't falter, his brow creased further if anything.

"'Course I was worried. You were bleeding out all over my car." Troy replied, his expression didn't change, but he shifted a little closer, pulling the duvet down from her mouth.

In response, she pulled herself up against the pillows, slowly trying to determine what to do next.

"Worried about your car-or me?" Rebecca pushed further, aware that her questions were sounding a little strange by this point, but she'd got this far, she wasn't retreating to her duvet cave yet.

Troy's brows definitely furrowed then, not sure what she was getting at. "Uh-You."

Rebecca had backed herself into a corner where the only means of escape was diving through her window or shuffling back into her duvet. And with the window meaning probable death, and the duvet meaning he'd still be there, she had nothing.

And she couldn't use the excuse of the death of her grandma either.

"Thanks."

The quick peck at the corner of his mouth was intended to be one of thanks. But when she hesitated to pull herself away completely, and his breath was hot against her cheek, she could help but gently lower her lips on his.

It was the worst decision Rebecca had made in far, _far_ too long, but the worst part was that she _wanted_ it to happen, even if she'd never admit it.

It wasn't perfect, and she didn't expect it to be. Her nose bumped his many a time and her hands stayed rooted at her sides until he pulled her closer, callous fingers slipping into her hair. Still, his tongue flicking at her lower lip made it worth it.

In pulling her closer, Troy's hand skimmed over her bandages, making her grunt loudly, biting down on his lip in pain. The hiss that he made, caused her to pull away immediately, cheeks flushed, lips pink.

"_Fuck_—Uh—That was a mistake." Troy ushered out, eyes wide.

In Rebecca's opinion, it certainly wasn't, but her only backup plan was to stay glued to her position on the bed, unmoving, simply blinking at his expression.

"We'll just count this down to a _stupid_, fucking mistake, deal?" Troy pressed again, brows raised.

Rebecca's reluctance was there, and it showed. "—Deal. Yeah."

"_Just_ friends." Troy repeated, in case she didn't get it the first time.

"Just friends." Rebecca's reluctance was becoming more and more apparent with every word he spoke.

"Forget about it."

"Forgetting about it."

Troy's brows creased as Rebecca spoke, clearly becoming more irritated. "You have to keep repeating what I say?"

That shut her up completely, looking down to the toes of her socks again. In her head she imagined the scenario to be seamless. But as Troy hung around on her bed, unnecessarily, Rebecca finally pulled her gaze up from her feet.

"I think I'm good now—Thanks and everything."

The moment Troy looked up was the exact second Rebecca's eyes dropped down again. But to his credit, he made no complaint as he got up from the bed, throwing her one last glance as he gently shut the door behind him.

Now wasn't the time to sulk and hide from the world, but that was exactly what she did, pulling the duvet tight over her head, and probably not coming out for the rest of the night. It was better than the prospect of facing Troy later on in the week.

* * *

Hope this was worth the wait, if it wasn't-well...

Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading, have a lovely day


	9. Got 99 problems but Sharp ain't one

Sorry for the delay-I just couldn't get this one right.

(Psttt thankyou for everyone who's recently favourited and followed and things. And of course thanks mucho's to chy as always)

I just couldn't leave Sharp alive for too long.

**Dont own a thing, promise. Except for Becca. **

* * *

The daylight filtered between hastily shut blinds, but the one thing to wake Rebecca up was Johnny's boot repeatedly hitting her door.

"Fuck—"

The groan that she made was enunciated when she tried to jump out of bed, only to be reminded that the wound beneath her bandage still hurt more than she wanted to admit.

"Yo—Open up!"

The request was answered with her alarm clock lugged at the door. The yells and bangs subsided for a moment, until she left her room, only to start up again as she unhatched the door.

Johnny kicked it open before she could tug on the handle, his eyes running over her once, brows creasing.

"Here I am thinkin' you couldn't look any worse." Johnny's mutter still caught her attention, to which she swatted him lightly. "Don't mean you can hit me." He added.

She didn't know whether he was joking or not.

Despite the fact that Rebecca wasn't as uneasy around him now, he still intimidated her too much. All her actions were done with care and precision in fear that she would induce a reaction from him that she really didn't want.

Rebecca gave no reply as she sank onto her sofa, brows creasing from the pressure on her stomach.

"Why're you here anyway?" She asked. The first words she'd spoken since he'd entered the room.

"Seeing how long you'll be out." He replied, all while rooting through her cupboard for food, most likely. When she heard the crinkle of a wrapper, she knew that he'd retrieved something.

"Get me some?" Rebecca tilted her head to where he stood.

"Fuck yourself." Johnny grinned. The smirk on his face stayed as he flopped onto her sofa. Limbs spread, totally at ease.

Rebecca knew that he wasn't going to be easy to deal with, and it was exactly when she needed him to be tolerable. Her fingers made their way to the bridge of her nose, pinching lightly.

All she heard in reply was a deep sigh, before a packet of chips hit her square in the face, and unless there was a poltergeist in her room, it meant Johnny had a sudden bout of kindness that had probably already faded.

"Thanks." Rebecca murmured.

The only other noise in the space was contented crunching next to her, as she meagrely poked at her chips.

"So—" Johnny spoke with a mouthful of food. "You gonna be up by this week?"

That was a question Rebecca didn't want to think about. She knew she couldn't stay out of the game forever. But going back meant looking Troy square in the face every day which was something that she was completely and utterly against at this point.

She gave a shrug in return.

"Whatever." Johnny didn't seem to care one way or another.

It might have been the fact that she was bored out of her brain, or that Johnny's incoherent words between eating were starting to get on her nerves, but she pushed herself off the sofa with difficulty, heading into her bathroom with no word to Johnny as she left.

Still, he didn't seem to notice.

* * *

He was still there when she came out, the holey tights and baggy t-shirt did her no favours. But considering her appearance, she didn't seem to mind one way or another.

"Woah—Woah, the fuck d'you think you're going?" Johnny started, pushing up from the sofa with difficulty.

"To the church." Rebecca replied as she walked out of the door.

It wasn't logical at all, and she knew that.

"You ain't going anywhere."

Johnny's hand was tight around her wrist before she could make any protests. She was being brash and stupid, she knew that. But it didn't stop her from trying to wrestle out of his grip anyway.

"Look—You're not on babysitting duty—So let me _go._" Rebecca protested, struggling in his hold.

"Fuckin' should be. You're acting like a kid."

Johnny was right, of course. But she still fought, finally sagging for a moment to ponder a suggestion.

"I won't do anything—Just need to get out of the house. I'm going stir crazy man." She whined, and from the wince, it was clearly her high pitched words were having an effect.

Johnny considered it for a moment, before dropping her wrist as if she was diseased, and pushing the elevator. Clearly expecting her to follow.

When she didn't, he turned with his brows raised; "You comin' or what?"

Rebecca leapt at the chance, half tripping over in her haste to get into the lift before the doors closed on her.

The lift down was awkward at best. Her eyes constantly flicked over to the mirror, where it was clear she looked as bad as Johnny described. The shirt was three sizes too large. Hair hanging wet on her shoulders, dripping down her back. The purple rings around her eyes darkened by the unflattering lighting. She almost scowled at the mirror.

The lift lurched, before reluctantly, the doors creaked open. She was first to edge out, knowing the less time spent in those lifts, the better.

Johnny's aura that he carried with him was daunting. Even when he had his leg brace, he walked as if it was effortless. Still maintained that cool composure, his lips that hardened line. She found it strangely admirable.

Rebecca got into the car without another word, and not even an attempt to hop into the driver's seat. Still, Johnny made no comment as he jumped into the driver's side quickly pulling away from her block of apartments.

"Yo—Why so quiet?" Johnny asked, as he performed a U-turn that had her cheek sticking to the window.

The brief shrug he got in response made him roll his eyes. Rebecca looked to him for a moment, eyes set behind his glasses, driving on the oncoming lane;

"Lin's gon—"

"Shut the fuck up." Johnny intercepted her as he pulled a sharp corner. "We ain't talkin' about that."

The rest of the journey was worse than the last, with Rebecca hunched, arms folded over her chest, like a child in disgrace, and Johnny with narrowed eyes, almost into slits.

As he pulled up alongside the church, he didn't say another word as he hopped out, expecting her to follow.

She did, too intimidated to do anything outside of his wishes. But as soon as she heard the familiar voice, the one that suffered too many cigarettes, she ground to a total halt, slinking behind the wall.

"Becca—The fuck are you hiding for?" Johnny called out to her hiding place.

The internal groan might as well have been out loud, because Troy turned to where the yell had been directed, and she had to lift her head sheepishly, tomato red. Avoiding all the glances from the other saints.

Though their words were with good intentions, the patronizing tones from other saints began to grate on her nerves. She could only smile for so long.

After saying 'thanks' too many times, she gave the next pat on the back a grimace.

* * *

It was when she had returned home, having done nothing more than a deranged meet and greet, that she felt restless.

She felt she hadn't proved her worth since she'd joined the saints.

Her achievements included;

_reducing Troy's car to ash and cinders during a race that she somehow won._

_Getting herself and another person drowned and shot by the leader of another gang._

_And punching her now not-dead brother in the face._

Rebecca had made it her goal to a bullet through William Sharp's skull before the week finished. And with her bullet wound still present, and still fresh in her memory, it was clear how the entire thing was an awful idea.

So when she was crouched outside Sharp's mansion, it became clear how much she had underestimated the situation.

A one woman army versus too many rollerz to count was a stupid idea on paper. Even worse when faced with the reality of it, blue clad rollerz with their backs to her.

The worst thing was, that was the first of many.

She hadn't told anyone her plan. And Julius would certainly not be happy with her when he found out. But she felt that she owed Lin, and she had something to prove. Lin, aside from Aisha, was the most ballsy woman Rebecca had ever met. The fact that Lin was gone, and she was alive, meant that she had to do something, before people wondered why they kept her around.

As soon as Rebecca heard his voice, her lack of concentration ceased, eyes flicked to the grey suit that slid into an overpriced car.

She stared for a moment, before realizing that this would be her only shot to take him out. Keeping her eyes trained on the car for movement, she turned, bolting over a fence and cutting her knees open in the process.

Despite how much had happened in the last few weeks, her lack of grace never changed.

Rebecca's hand curled around the car's handle, jumping inside the car to quick rev the engine. The drive wasn't going to be smooth, with her in the driver's seat, And as she jerked the steering wheel to the left, slamming her foot hard on the brake, she could see his car turn the corner.

This wasn't some bullshit task that she could muck up if things went bad. It mattered now, whether she caught him or not.

Her perception of how easy this was going to be was diminishing fast. She pressed down on the accelerator, so that his car was in view. Sharp hadn't seen her yet. As she angled her SMG out of the window, straight for his tires, her eyes narrowed, finger squeezing the trigger.

It sent Sharp crashing into the next oncoming car, as Rebecca thought it would. The sound of crushed metal filled her ears, the smell of burnt tires filling her nostrils, making her grimace.

Well aware she was on a busy highway, she leapt out of her car, stalling it in the process, before approaching the debris of the two cars, brows raised.

Sharp's eyes were closed, the smallest hint of crimson beading around his forehead. His suit was stained with dirt, and the smallest hint of rubble. She could already see purple beginning to form around his forehead.

Rebecca's eyes fell to his chest, looking for that steady rise and fall. When it became apparent it was there, she let out the breath she was holding. She had plans for him yet, bigger ones.

Giving the driver of the other car a small nod, she pulled open the car door, tugging Sharp's unconscious form out onto the busy road with no more than a grunt. Considering she was strong for her height, his unconscious form still overwhelmed her, and hauling him into her car was easier said than done. His arms hung loosely over her sides, head lolling on her shoulder.

"Hey—You." She grunted out, to the bewildered driver who Sharp had just crashed into. "Give me a hand with this guy—huh?"

The wide eyes and sweating forehead told her it was unlikely he was going to help.

"C'mon. Look-just open the fucking door." With no hands to point to her objective, Rebecca tilted her head in the direction of her car.

Clearly too frightened to speak, the driver quickly scooted to her side, opening her car door.

She gave a grateful nod of thanks, looping her arms around Sharp's torso, as the blare of a horn made her jump.

"Jesus—This guy's a heavy bastard."

Her eyes quickly ran up to the driver, who was still rooted to the spot, apparently fascinated by the small woman's attempt to drag a heavy middle aged man into her car.

Once she had hauled him over, she buckled him in. The safety precautions were in place in case Sharp decided to die during the journey. She hopped in after, oblivious to the honks of horns around her, and started to reverse, all whilst giving the shocked driver a thumbs up and a grin.

Pulling around the corner to see the start of sand calmed her. She had to act fast.

She knew more than anyone that she couldn't do this if he were conscious. He was a strong man despite his age, and would certainly fight her off when it came down to it. She knew how ruthless Sharp was. She'd lived through it.

Pulling the handbrake, her car lurched, and eventually came to a stop. Her eyes ran over to Sharp, unbuckling his belt before hauling him over her shoulder. She didn't know if that approach would be simpler, but it was worth an attempt. Her knees couldn't support his body, as thin as he was, and the moment she started to walk, her legs almost gave out.

The sand buckled under her feet, as she ended up dragging him by the ankles towards the sea. The weak murmurs of discomfort alerted her to his regaining of consciousness.

As the water started to lap at her ankles, she shook off the feeling of discomfort that came to. The water meeting her chin, flooding her lungs, pulling Lin under. It made her shake her head to rid the thoughts, as Sharp's eyes weakly opened.

Her eyes ran over him once, noticing his regaining of consciousness. She wasted no time in curling her fingers around his lapels, tugging him towards her. The action almost made her lose her balance, and as she recovered, she lowered his head underwater.

The water was just under her hip, gently hitting her bandage. The grimace of discomfort didn't matter however, when her attention was pulled to Sharp.

His limbs were spread, obvious struggle and panic at his current situation. Flailing limbs were hard to contain, but as her grip on his hair became tighter, and the water rose higher, his struggles began to weaken.

She was almost knocked off her balance at his last attempt to break for air, legs kicking into her stomach, making her hold slacken for a moment, but she managed to hold back on by the time his struggles subsided.

The bubbles of air that formed at the top of the water provided a sense of relief, and her hand dropped off him the second the last bubble floated to the surface. Her loud exhale and the lapping of the waves was the only thing that filled the air. She blinked once, eyes still stuck on the floating corpse by her side.

The small laugh wasn't due to the non-existent humour in the situation, but more to the relief that she'd finally accomplished something. She'd spent too long being a liability. Maybe now the higher-ups would have something to be proud about.

Due to her paranoia, she lugged him over, hands curling to grip the sodden material of his suit. The mini wave from her action caused the sea water to enter her mouth, making her spit, with a small grimace.

The grimace soon faded at the sight of Sharp's face. She had never before felt satisfied by it by the death of a human being, but the blank eyes and slack jaw provided a stability she didn't know she yearned.

She let him go as if he were infectious, wading out of the sea until her sodden canvas shoes met the sand again.

Wet, drenched, but immensely proud.

The smile didn't wipe off her face, and she had to turn around once more to see the grey suit floating in the water, before setting off for home.

Finally, she had something to brag about.

* * *

Okay, so, that's that. Let's hope it doesn't turn out too badly for her.

Hope you enjoyed, and have a lovely day.


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